


O. C. Guns

by 6YearsABrave



Series: O. C. [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6YearsABrave/pseuds/6YearsABrave
Summary: A tale of the Wild West.Slim Pickens' world is about to be turned upside down.





	O. C. Guns

In the far southern reaches of California, the 1890s were busy and exciting times, to say the least. Gold came and went. Smaller wagons were becoming quite popular. People were moving forward with something new all the time, trying to better their simple, humble lives. But the Mexican border was as it always had been, riddled with unrest. 

The region had its fair share of outlaws, and then some. Here and there they caused trouble. Here and there one was caught. Here and there one was lost again. Several were famous, and famously wanted, for long periods of time. One such at this time was Peppers, whose real name no one knew. Likewise, no one knew where he lived, or who his family was, or exactly how old he was. He hadn’t been around for too long, because he hadn’t been famous for too long. Yet, Peppers was the most famous outlaw of the time because it was said he once stood up to a whole gang of Mexican bandits armed with nothing but his fists and killed them all within ten minutes.

Usually the same things could be expected to occur around outlaws such as Peppers – theft, rape, murder, arson. But all the stories, no matter how increasingly impressive, seemed the same to a handsome yet poor rogue with blue eyes and bright blond hair. Slim Pickens had seen and heard it all before – or at least, he thought he had. He was only twenty-three that summer of 1890, after all. Life was often hard and unfair for Slim, much harder than it should have been for a smart, young, capable man such as himself, and he dealt with it. He depended upon his own dishonesty for his bread, and had made a bed for himself behind Vivador’s saloon where he often slept, undisturbed most nights except for cats. Stray bullets from bar brawls wouldn’t ever get through the stone walls, so he felt safe there. And with good reason – it was one fateful night inside Vivador’s saloon when Slim’s young life did feel in a different kind of jeopardy.

 

It was a clear, windless night, and it was late.

The moon was new, so it was nowhere to be seen. Slim Pickens lay on his mat behind Vivador’s, tossing and turning. It wasn’t just him; it was particularly loud in the saloon, for this hour, anyhow. Finally, he sat up, and decided to go inside. Maybe a drink would make him feel a little bit more at ease. It would cost him the next day, and he knew it; but at this point, he thought it might be worth it.

As soon as he stepped inside he saw what the commotion was about. He didn’t know it, but the pupils of his eyes had widened.

He saw a bunch of men gathered around a big, tall, tanned man with unruly silver and black hair and wild brown eyes. He was thickset, covered in muscle, and didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on him. Slim had never seen him before, of course, and he immediately took interest. The way all the others gathered around him and paid him attention gave Slim the impression the man was important.

They all laughed as he spoke in a loud voice, “Man fell flat on his back before you can say, ‘fucking hell’!” Several laughed so hard their voices broke. The stranger was apparently telling them a story.

Slim settled down at the bar, keeping his eyes near the curious stranger. He had a beer while the stranger had a few shots as he talked. A little later it was obvious they were having a drinking contest between him and another Mexican. Slim watched, pretending to only be mildly interested, but quite obviously smiled widely when the Mexican keeled over and the stranger won. Then another man challenged the stranger, and the process repeated itself, Slim unable to stop watching in something like awe.

The stranger had just won his fourth straight drinking contest when Slim, having already finished his beer, smiled again. He was looking right at the intriguing stranger, and unexpectedly, they caught each other’s eye.

It was the most intense, though brief, moment Slim had experienced in a long time. The stranger’s eyes, when they met Slim’s, lost a bit of that drunken stupor for a second and took on some other emotion; Slim couldn’t tell what it was. But then his smile became a bit more genuine also, and now, little else occupied Slim’s thoughts.

The man went on to prattle around with the Mexicans like a drunken puppy. Among it all Slim heard, “No, shit! Don’tcha know I’m wanted in nearly every county in the fucking west? Except in Mexico, maybe. Don’t know about down there.” He laughed heartily, but then a second later a particularly brave Mexican stood up abruptly and shoved the stranger with all his strength backward.

Slim winced. The stranger’s chair had scooted back a few inches, but nothing more.

The stranger, of course, did not take kindly to it. So he grabbed the Mexican by the hem of his collar, lifted his somewhat small frame clean off the floor, and slammed his back down on a card table.

After that, it all became somewhat of a blur to Slim as Vivador’s erupted into a chaos of fists, bullets, and broken glass. He remembered leaping up off his bar stool to join the stranger’s fight, and getting in a few good shots. He didn’t actually put on a show or hurt anyone, though the stranger seemed to still be impressed with his effort. Snatching away and pocketing a Mexican’s gun and then shoving him to the floor, the stranger then lunged for Slim, hauling him over his broad shoulder, and swept them both out the door. Slim didn’t mind it at this point; obviously, the man wouldn’t hurt him. An obvious outlaw was apparently kidnapping him, yet Slim felt strangely at ease with it.

Once outside Slim found himself trying to make futile talk with the stranger, but the stranger had no words. He simply lifted Slim up onto a powerfully built brown horse, then followed up himself. He kicked the horse ever so gently and they took off as drunk Mexicans started to spill out the saloon doors, shouting and writhing and cursing the man. Slim held onto the stranger’s firm torso as they took off southward into the lonely, dark desert. Until they reached a run-down little wooden house that looked about a hundred and fifty years old not a word was spoken between them.

Without a word the stranger dismounted, then helped Slim down. He seemed to rush to tie up the horse and then run into the old house, scurrying around for the lock on the door. Once it was locked the stranger motioned for Slim to come with him to another room. 

The house was dark, and there was no light outside, so Slim couldn’t see very well. But from what he could make out in the gleam, he knew that the other man was hastily pulling his tattered clothes off. There was a very low bed in the middle of the room. After a minute the stranger lay down on it, still. Then he propped his head up and looked to Slim with dark eyes like black pools in the dimness. Inviting black pools – almost like twin black holes.

Slim, until then just standing there, found himself scrambling to unbutton his shirt.

 

An hour later Slim was making sounds he didn’t know he was capable of making. The stranger thrust over and over with the best of them. To Slim, his own body was no longer his own – it was taken to the land of a tall, tan man with very firm muscles, and he made up the entire world, even though he couldn’t actually see anything. What shocked him the most was that most of the time, he felt like there was nothing there. And then he’d thrust again…

And then Slim thought he might die as he cried out.

The whole time the stranger didn’t make a sound.

 

Much later in that eventful night, Slim lay there, exhausted, next to the stranger, who still hadn’t made a sound. He tried to quiet his heavy breathing and relax, but he knew he couldn’t sleep until he knew for sure.

“Who are you?” He asked quietly into the darkness.

There was a pause before the man huffed deeply, “Peppers.”

 

Slim woke up long before Peppers. His forehead was covered in sweat and his head throbbed with a hangover.

He stumbled up out of bed, leaving the room to find something cold to soothe his head. Luckily, he stumbled into the little kitchen, where there was an icebox. He pressed some ice onto his head and sighed with relief.

He then silently explored the house, taking a good look at mostly everything. He saw some things that surprised him – things he wouldn’t have expected to see in the home of a famous outlaw. Everything in Peppers’ home, though, looked incredibly dated, like he’d stepped into the past. There were lots of nice picture frames on the walls, but not a single photo. Hung over one of the frames in the living area was an old but very beautiful necklace made of pearls and diamonds. There was also a fancy watch sitting on a simple little table near the front door.

Slim got around to all the rooms, finding fancy, effeminate treasures all over the place, and then finally found his way to the creaky, dark basement. Hay, both in neat bunches and strewn about, covered half the wooden floor. What of the floor Slim could see, however, was splattered with a dry, dark substance that couldn’t have been anything besides blood.

Slim didn’t step on anything, and took great care as he crossed the room. As he got to the other side to look at the wall, his foot caught on some hard lump on the floor. Grabbing his foot, he looked down and saw some kind of rusty metal handle.

He bent down and pulled at it. The floorboards creaked, but to Slim’s excitement, the panel lifted to reveal a hidden compartment underneath with a simple chest sitting in it. There was no lock on the chest, so Slim was able to gently pull the lid open. What he saw he could barely comprehend.

Before him, filling the chest in Peppers’ basement, were uncounted gold and silver coins and bars. Even a few rubies and diamonds were mixed in as well. Some of the money had dust and dirt on it; some didn’t.

_It’s enough for a king’s ransom,_ Slim thought, his eyes wide. He stared at it for a few more moments, a million scenarios involving that money running through his head. Then, without laying so much as a finger on a single coin, he gently closed the chest’s lid and the secret compartment, leaving everything as he found it.

 

Peppers’ large frame emerged through a doorway to find Slim sitting in a chair in the living area. His voice was quiet. “You’re still here.”

Slim looked abruptly up at Peppers and hastily stood. “I…got nowhere to go.”

Peppers raised a dark eyebrow. “Really?” he asked in surprise as he cleared his throat. Slim couldn’t think of anything to say as they both stood there, just looking at each other. He was afraid he’d sound stupid, so he just nodded slightly.

Peppers raised his own chin. “Well,” he said with a small, sly grin, “I don’t usually ask guys out on dates, but…want to get somethin’ to eat?”

“Love to,” Slim replied without hesitation.

 

For Peppers, ‘getting something to eat’ meant heading up to a rich farm in Orange County and picking some fruits and vegetables and also hauling off and shooting a few pigs and ducks. Slim caught on quickly, initially having some second thoughts as they carried off the crops, but then thinking better of mentioning it to Peppers. After all, this would be the richest place he’d ever eaten from and the best meal he’d had for ages. 

Peppers led the charge into the cornfield. “Watch my back,” he said with a grin and a thoughtful pause before plunging into the forest of stalks.

“Peppers, w-wait…” Slim tried to say but he was already gone. Standing at the edge of the cornfield, he’d have looked himself like a stalk of corn if he’d been wearing green.

Several minutes later Peppers emerged from the field with an armful of ears. He dumped them into the bag he’d been carrying and they set off quickly.

“Why the hell didn’t you gather some?” Peppers asked when he noticed Slim still empty-handed.

“I thought you were doing the gathering,” Slim replied, nervous about the whole thing. He’d stolen plenty before, but never from a place this prestigious.

“Don’t leave all the damn work to me,” Peppers huffed as he took off into the pigpen.

 

Later that afternoon, they enjoyed their fresh pick uninterrupted back at Peppers’ place. There were even some leftovers, which they put in the icebox.

While they were eating Peppers had asked Slim, “So, you…don’t do much stealing?”

“I do,” Slim replied in a high voice, making an effort to defend himself and make an impression on Peppers.

He failed. “Then why the hell didn’t you help out today?”

“I just…” Slim trailed off, unable to both tell Peppers the truth and have the impression on him he would like. He decided to come up with an excuse. “It looked like you were getting all we’d need.”

Peppers made a snorting noise as he bit into a big piece of pork. “I guess it’s not in everybody.”

“What’s not in everybody?”

“I’ll put it in you, then,” Peppers went on, determined now to do _something_ to Slim, whatever that something was. Slim, however, only stared Peppers up and down, imagining the implications and grinning to himself as he did.

 

Now that there was a half-moon shining, it wasn’t so dark in Peppers’ little house. Slim took notice of this just as Peppers had slipped off his pants and jumped down into bed with him, attacking him playfully and tugging Slim’s clothes off without a word. 

Slim couldn’t help but laugh. Peppers had really warmed up to him, especially in the bedroom, and he loved that fact. Slim turned his back to Peppers, lying on his side, and waited. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Outlaws don’t waste time.

Slim grunted quietly at first, not stifling his voice at all yet, clutching a pillow, but then as it got deeper and more intense he became louder and louder. Peppers grinned savagely and ran his tongue across Slim’s back.

Slim screamed one more time into the pillow before Peppers stopped and pulled back. Breathing heavily, Slim asked, “Is this…what you meant…when you said…you’d put it in me?”

“Put it in you?” Peppers asked. “Hell no. I meant I’m gonna teach you to be like me…I’m gonna put a real outlaw in you. But now that you mention it, I’ll do it literally.”

Slim snickered as Peppers put an outlaw in him again.

 

“So,” Slim drawled the next morning as they prepared to go out for food, “Peppers.” He came closer, nestling himself sensually against Peppers’ side. “Are you like they say you are?”

Peppers smirked, straightening, glancing down at Slim’s dirty blond hair. “How do they say I am?”

Slim grinned, stretching an arm across Peppers’ shirtfront. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this…they say you can kill a whole gang of bandits without a single weapon besides your fists. In hardly ten minutes.”

“Pfffft,” Peppers scoffed. “That’s child’s play.”

“Oh really?” Slim asked, fully believing it but trying to sound skeptical in order to play hard to get. Slim drew back from him and glanced around the little house. “Well…what do you say you try me…with one of these?” He asked, taking a shiny battle sword from its case on the wall.

Peppers grinned slyly. He took a few steps backward and gracefully grabbed another sword like it, brandishing it in front of him.

Slim struggled to keep a confident look on his face, even though he was actually the one who made the challenge. He circled the room, his sword held out in front of him, shaking only slightly, putting off first contact. Peppers advanced slowly, step by step, until he was close enough to Slim to hit his sword.

Slim jumped to the side but held on as Peppers attacked. His steps went toward the door but he couldn’t help but run into a table, knocking it over in his fear and haste, and shoving a chair out of the way as he went. Peppers expertly jammed Slim’s sword sideways across the door frame before they went out, Slim nearly falling down to his back. They didn’t take their eyes from each other once as they went out into the morning sunlight and started to kick up endless dust.

Peppers’ attacks made up most of the fight, and meanwhile, Slim’s constant parrying. Peppers’ horse, Salty, was tied out by the side of the house and made a ruckus, clearly enjoying the show his owner was putting on. Peppers grinned, his attacks, coming faster and faster, Slim losing ground every second, nearly tripping over himself at every turn.

“Come on,” Peppers goaded him in between strokes, “fight!”

Slim wrinkled his brow and grinned. Alright, outlaw, he thought to himself, too out of breath to voice it. He slid his sword up Peppers’, swinging it around in a wide arc so it would be higher in the air and so he could get the high ground. He raised his arms high, his heart pumping at a hundred miles an hour, and slashed toward Peppers’ sword with all his might. 

Peppers met the challenge with a flourish. “Good!” He said proudly, even though Slim’s sword had come nowhere near him.

Pleased at Peppers’ praise, Slim slashed toward him again and again until Peppers caught on and inevitably started taking the offensive side again. He made sure Slim could stand the blows and got his sword up each time until Slim started to visibly tire.

Slim stepped backwards with each block, a determined look still on his face, but his legs deserting him all the same. Finally his knees gave and he fell to the dirt on them, still raising his sword. Peppers considerably lessened the fury of his attacks as he also dropped to his knees directly before Slim, still on the offensive. Slim still wouldn’t give up, so Peppers didn’t put down his sword until Slim fell to his back, one elbow in the dirt, his sword still raised. Peppers thrust out an arm right by Slim’s shoulder as he straddled him, laying his sword over Slim’s, mere inches separating their sweaty, tired faces when they finally came to a stop. Peppers could have slashed Slim to pieces, but they were only testing each other.

Slim’s wide blue eyes looked up at Peppers’ face, which blocked out the sun, in admiration. Peppers only lay there over Slim, his chest moving up and down ever so slightly, connected to him by their swords, their hearts beating in unison, it seemed. Slim could have sworn he spotted Peppers’ eyes dart toward his lips and back, but before anything happened, he heaved himself back to his knees and held out a big, tanned hand to Slim.

Slim eagerly took it, relishing its warmth despite the hot weather. He got to his knees, glancing up at Peppers briefly, before he stood.

“I, uh…don’t usually do this, but…” Peppers fumbled for words as he held his right hand back out to Slim, who stood there, likewise not knowing what to say.

“Good job…you’ve still got a fucking shitload of catching up to do, though, if you’re ever gonna beat me.” Peppers grabbed Slim’s hand and shook it firmly, Slim’s tired arm pleasantly wagging behind.

“Oh,” Slim muttered. “Well…”

 

Later that evening as they ate together Slim broke the silence between them by asking, “Where are you from, Peppers?”

It was a moment before Peppers swallowed his pork and replied, “Here.”

Slim glanced around, as if looking for a baby picture, some reassurance he was telling the truth. “What do you mean, here?”

“I was born right here,” he said, taking another bite, “in this house.”

“Your parents, any family still around?” Slim asked with a shrug.

Peppers became solemn. His voice was very quiet, so Slim barely heard him when he said, “No.”

Slim turned it over in his mind. “So you’ve been alone for a while.”

Peppers made the slightest nod of his chin without looking at Slim. When he didn’t say anything, Slim added, “You know, I had been alone for some time, too.”

“Well, I doubt you could have stood the loneliness on top of what I’ve been through.” He took a big, hearty bite of his pork and didn’t say another word. Slim only studied the man he’d grown to idolize, the mysterious, quiet outlaw who had unarguably changed his life forever.

 

Vivador’s bustled with cowboys, renegades, and no-gooders the next evening, including a famous outlaw and his ‘back-watching sidekick’ who everyone cleared the way for.

“Shot contest?” Slim asked suggestively.

Peppers leaned closer to Slim, not making eye contact. They sat next to each other on bar stools. “If you think you can handle me.”

“You’re on,” Slim said confidently, telling the waitress.

Everyone in the bar gathered around to watch the famous Peppers take on a new adversary, a handsome young blonde named Slim Pickens. As the contest began, Peppers knocked his first shot glass against Slim’s, giving him a wicked smile as they each tipped them back.

After about twenty minutes, the crowd around them had grown considerably and Slim started to feel like he was leaning against the bar for dear life. He stared at Peppers. The outlaw sat there, unperturbed, as if he were mildly wondering why Slim looked so disheveled. His back was still straight and he looked as fine as he had this morning. 

What is it in this man?

Slim thought back to the night he’d seen Peppers for the first time. He was playing in drinking contests that night, too. Just as he started to wonder if it was a bad idea to challenge him, he suddenly lost sight of Peppers sitting there right by him and he thought he caught a glimpse of the ceiling before everything disappeared and went black.

 

There was a particularly loud shout from the crowd as Slim passed out and fell off his stool. An energetic young man who’d had a front row view of the contest jumped forward and caught him right before his head hit the wooden floor. Immediately everyone surrounded Peppers, congratulating him with exemplary pats on the back and even waving dollar bill tips in the air for him, but unlike every other time he’d won a drinking contest (which was every time) he didn’t really respond to the cheers – at all.

There was no bragging, invitation for another opponent, or storytelling from Peppers. Not a sound came from him as he stared down at his defeated, yet valiant, opponent.

Unable to stop himself, he calmly slid off his stool, bent to the floor, and gently picked up Slim’s prone form, draping him across both his huge, strong arms. He didn’t look anyone in the eye; he only looked to the doors of the saloon, his head bowed over Slim as if to protect him. Heading for the door, he still didn’t say a word, even though he was hounded with cheers and questions from the spectators who he’d just entertained. 

For the first time, being the star that he was at Vivador’s and playing the role was the last thing on his mind.

 

Slim opened his eyes.

He was back in his and Peppers’ bedroom, and his head swam. “Ughh…” he groaned, trying to sit up.

Then he realized Peppers sat next to him. The outlaw put out a hand to steady the ice-pack that rested on Slim’s head. “Relax.”

Soothed by Peppers’ calm tone, Slim slowly lay back down, figuring it was best. It was all coming back to him. Vivador’s. Their drinking contest.

He became more and more confused. He looked up at Peppers. “What the hell happened?”

Peppers paused before saying, “I won.”

Slim just stared at him until he thought he’d burn two holes in Peppers’ face. “And?”

“And…that was that.”

“But how did I get back here?”

“Salty and I brought you, stupid.”

Slim, taking it in, sunk back to the pillow. “Oh.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to sort out the scene in his mind, but largely failed due to the lingering effects of the alcohol he’d ingested previously.

Unable to say anything else, Slim just lay there, recovering, as Peppers got up and changed his clothes.

Peppers crawled into bed next to him. It was a while before Slim finally managed to speak.

Not checking to see if Peppers was even still awake, he said quietly, “Thank you…Peppers.”

No response, but Peppers did move slightly. “I can’t imagine what…what happened. Just…thank you. I…” His tongue flicked up, ready to make the _l_ sound, but it didn’t come out. Slim just made a tiny sigh instead. “Thank you.” He turned over and fell asleep.

 

A few hours later Slim was jolted awake by the sound of banging metal on wood.

He sat bolt upright in bed, his head reeling a bit before he steadied his vision in the dark by grabbing his head.

Peppers already sat on the edge of the bed, still as a rock. There were footsteps outside the bedroom door – men’s heavy, booted footsteps.

“Peppers!” Slim whispered frantically, “what’s-”

“Stay here,” Peppers said in a low, urgent voice as the bedroom door burst open. Nine or ten Mexican men tried to battle their way into the room all at once, but Peppers didn’t let them.

He jumped up and attacked the first few of them with fearsome blows. It was very dim in the room, so none of them could see very well at all, but they managed to land some hits on Peppers due to his sheer bulk. Slim could see that these men were after Peppers, and not caring why, he jumped up and joined in the fray on Peppers’ side.

Before long it was apparent that Peppers and Slim were vastly outnumbered and in deep trouble, as several of the men wielded knives and club-like objects that they were swinging around and trying to aim at Peppers. Slim grappled with one of the men, who he eventually threw against the wall. He fell to the floor, but a moment later, stood back up and lashed out at Slim again with his fist.

While Slim was occupied with the one man all the others had ganged up on Peppers behind him. He gasped when he heard a loud thump and whirled around just in time to realize Peppers had been hit and had fallen to the floor.

The gang all worked together to heave his large frame up and out the door. Slim yelled at them in English, pulled at their arms and tried to make them stop and put Peppers down, but one of them only shoved him back to the floor with an annoyed smirk.

“No!” Slim screamed after them. The men paid him no heed and took their stolen, live bundle outside to some horses.

Slim moved a bit slowly at first, but then his mind started racing as the men sped off, one by one, into the night, the unconscious Peppers lashed to one of the bigger horses.

Slim’s eyes darted this way and that. He stood in the doorway of the house, watching as the last of the bandits went off in the opposite direction, directly away from the house. He couldn’t believe it.

So he moved fast in case it was really happening.

He raced back into the house as fast as he could and hastily put on a pair of pants and boots. He then tore out again and yelled at Salty to wake him up as he untied him and mounted faster and clumsier than he ever had before. He kicked him mightily, and the startled horse gave a loud whinny.

“Hush, hush,” he said to the horse, sorry now for being so violent with him. He’d never ridden without Peppers before. “I’m sorry. But we’ve got to go _now_.”

He petted the horse’s head as calmly as he could. Panting, he pulled on the reins gently enough for Salty to get the message that it was urgent. The horse could tell the situation was urgent only because his real master, Peppers, wasn’t there.

They sped off into the night, Slim swaying backwards a little, not having Peppers to hang onto. Salty ran fast, faster than Slim expected he would in the dead of night. He hardly had to kick him at all to speed up, as he could see, just at the limits of his vision up ahead, the gang he was after.

He didn’t want to immediately catch up with them, of course; he wanted to secretly follow them to find out where they were going. Hopefully it wasn’t too far. How long would Peppers last?

Slim pushed terrible, inevitable thoughts away and focused on staying out of sight of the gang. They rode on for a good seven or eight minutes before they approached an outcropping of trees where there was some brown dirt.

Slim immediately slowed up and quieted Salty as the Mexicans disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Once they were all gone, Slim cautiously came up to the tree line and listened. He could still hear the horses’ hooves receding, and once they were barely discernible, he nudged Salty and they entered the thicket.

Salty slowed to a walk as Slim strained his eyes to see up ahead. He could still hear them, and that was what mattered.

Before long they caught sight of a faint orange glow. The gang was headed for it. Slim stayed in the trees as they gathered around a fire in front of a large wooden shelter in a clearing. There was a tying-place for the horses and a big, wooden structure that Slim took to be a guillotine, as there were ropes dangling from a high beam above its platform.

The men started to talk in Spanish. Slim only knew some scattered words and expressions, but he could tell they were talking about Peppers, as the still-unconscious outlaw was roughly removed from the horse with much ado.

After they checked his vitals and deemed him still alive, they brought him over to the guillotine and laid him on his back on the platform. Some of the men went inside the hideout, other mulled around the clearing. A conversation took place by the side of the fire nearest to Slim’s hiding place among the trees.

He heard the word ‘dinero’ several times, followed by insults about someone. They looked back to Peppers frequently.

Slim put it all together in his head, the light from the fire gleaming in his eyes, turning them a cool, flickering silver. He looked to Peppers, who lay beneath the guillotine, likely more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. Not too long ago he himself had been nearly as vulnerable, and Peppers had saved him.

Slim pulled on the reins and Salty obediently turned back. As quickly and quietly as they could, they left the trees and, at full speed once out in the open, tore back to Peppers’ house.

 

Once back home, Slim jumped off Salty as quickly as he could, nearly falling over himself as he got down to the ground. Without bothering to tie Salty he raced inside and made straight for the basement. He scrambled around, searching frantically for the metal handle to the secret compartment in the floor. After having heaved the chest up and out, he ran back outside and, putting it in a pack on Salty’s saddle, impatiently mounted again in a mess. Salty immediately took off back towards the trees as fast as possible, Slim leaning forward as if it would get him there quicker.

They tore through the trees, this time recklessly, leaves and twigs crunching under the horse’s hooves as they hurried to the secret hideout. This time, without any delay, they burst from the trees into the clearing.

Slim tried to be graceful dismounting Salty but it was still difficult as twelve Mexican men looked on, amused, as well as the now-revived Peppers. After getting his footing on the ground he snatched the chest of money off Salty’s back and held it up. “Here,” he said loudly, noticing Peppers standing on the guillotine stage, his hands and feet tied. A contemplative look crossed the imprisoned outlaw’s features, and he was silent as he watched Slim’s every move in the firelight. “Take this!”

A few of the men drew guns, preemptively. One of them came over to Slim slowly and carefully took the chest from him, setting it down on the ground for all to see and opening it. The coins and bars shone in the light of the fire and the men were undoubtedly impressed as they all whispered among themselves, staring at it.

The man who’d taken the chest from Slim came forward and closed it. He said something in Spanish to Slim, who didn’t understand. Then he shouted to all the others, _“¡Vamanos!”_

At that cue some of the others went over to the guillotine, preparing a noose and moving Peppers to the right place underneath the high beam. The ropes were fixed over his head to the right length.

Slim understood, and shouted, “What are you doing?” He ran forward to the guillotine. “I said, take this instead of him!” He gestured at the chest of money.

But none of them understood. The ringleader said something to him again he didn’t understand, and the men kept on preparing to hang the still-silent outlaw.

Slim looked up to Peppers, anger rising in his chest. “No!” he cried, attacking one of the unsuspecting men.

He wasn’t prepared to fight back, and Slim, tackling him, snatched his gun from his belt. The other gang members took notice but, as they were running forward and grabbing their guns, Slim had already jumped up onto the guillotine platform and was pushing them off, unfastening Peppers’ bonds. He shot through the last of the rope around Peppers’ feet and the noose that hung above his head.

With Peppers freed, the pair was now invincible. They attacked the gang together, using every technique possible, whirling through the men and delivering blow after blow, kick after shot. The gang outnumbered the outlaws by a pretty good margin, but it was as if a tornado was blowing through them.

Eventually Peppers got hold of a gun and finished the last of them off himself. He was covered in grime, dirt, and the men’s splattered blood, but didn’t care. Slim watched the last of the men die on the ground and then turned his gaze to Peppers, who stood with his strong back to him.

Peppers flung away the gun he was holding. The whole conflict had hardly lasted five minutes. But the entire gang was dead, and Peppers was unharmed.

Slim felt as if he were staring at a gladiator hero.

As Peppers turned around Slim noticed the dawn fast approaching. Peppers emptied a pail of water onto the fire. Then he looked to Slim, who stood near the guillotine.

There was a pause for a moment more, and then Slim ran for Peppers, who caught him in his big arms and spun him around for a second before kissing his lips with a passion they hadn’t shared before. Slim stood there, enveloped by Peppers, caught up in his mouth, breathing together like one person as their chests touched. They’d been closer-than-close before, but it was never like this, and both of them knew it.

It was about a minute before they pulled back and faced each other. When they did, Slim stuttered for a second, then found he had no other words besides, “I love you.”

“I know,” Peppers responded in a very low, almost choked voice. “I love you too.” They kissed again, the chest full of Peppers’ riches off to the side across the clearing. Neither of them had even glanced at it. There was also a hoard inside the bandit gang’s hideout – but it was the last thing on either Peppers’ or Slim’s mind.

What good was the money, after all, when they had each other?


End file.
